


Glad You Found Me

by tiptoe39



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sweat, Training, sweaty boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy has finally passed Oliver's tests. With the triumph comes a moment of honesty.<br/>(A bit of PWP for dearest akadougal. May even be OOC. No regrets.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glad You Found Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dedougal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/gifts).



It took him nine times, but Roy had finally earned his stripes. 

Oliver had set up an obstacle course in the room beneath the club, and Roy had braved it nine times. The first two he petered out before even getting to the end, dropping from the pipes he was supposed to maneuver through hand-over-hand or losing his grip on the pull-up bar one rung from the top. By the third time, he managed to make it through the whole thing, but that wasn't enough to earn him his stripes. When he was done, he had to pick up a bow and arrow and hit Oliver. 

Well, hit the center of a wooden shield Oliver was carrying as he ran around the room, dodging and darting from place to place. That was what tripped him up the rest of the eight failed tries. But time nine, after cutting off Oliver's escape with quickly shot arrows to his left and right, Roy managed to land an arrow in the dead center of that momentarily stilled shield, and Oliver straightened up, dropped the shield, and applauded.

“Well done,” he said. “You're ready.”

Roy very nearly crumpled to the floor and fainted right there.

But then, there was Oliver's hand on his shoulder, big and warm and comforting, and Roy melted into it instead, stepping forward and dropping his head onto Oliver's chest, panting with the exertion, his muscles trembling. Oliver laughed and slid his arm around Roy's back, holding him up. “You did good, Roy,” he said. “You did really well.”

Roy just whimpered. He was exhausted, pushed so far past his limits that his whole body was burning, but at the same time Oliver was warm and huge against his body, everything Roy wanted to be in one amazing package. He was so, so glad he'd finally figured out who the vigilante was, that he'd managed to worm his way into Oliver's good graces and that he'd stuck to the training Oliver had prescribed. If all he got was this one warm moment, he'd take it and never look back.

Oliver's lips brushed the top of his head, and Roy went tense again. It was just a brotherly gesture, though, and Roy beat down his reaction, thinking of everything ugly and awful. That was his new secret, and he'd be damned if he let anyone know about it, if he'd even admit to himself the way he felt when he watched Oliver move, when Oliver guided his hand on the bowstring and helped him bring a target into his sights. It was a dangerous, hot feeling, and Roy couldn't quite bring himself to be ashamed of it, as much as he wished it didn't exist. But still, he had to hide it. 

“You're gonna go out with me tonight,” Oliver said. “I'll show you how this city keeps its secrets.”

Roy nodded. The city's secrets were far uglier than his own, and he wanted to expose them, rip them to shreds. Finally, he had a way to do that, and he couldn't wait. He had been bitten by this city far too many times, and it was long past time for payback. 

“Glad you found me,” Oliver whispered. His embrace still hadn't let up, and Roy was starting to be confused. They should have long since separated; Oliver should be saying these things to him face to face, like fellow warriors, not whispered into the top of his head, with Roy curled into him like a pet. He made an effort to stand up straight, but Oliver's arm held him fast. “I'm so glad you found me, Roy.”

Another kiss to the top of his head, and Oliver's other hand touched his waist, and for the first time since this whole thing started Roy dared to dream that maybe he and Oliver shared another secret besides their desire for justice. He tilted his head up, and when his gaze met Oliver's, Roy was sure of it.

Oliver kissed him slowly, expertly, tasting his lips and slowly parting them. Roy made a hapless little sound of want and pressed close, body against Oliver's all the way from knees to chest, and God, now he knew, now he could feel Oliver's desire surging against his skin. Oliver slid his hands up to cup Roy's face, kissed him again and again, and Roy couldn't control the sounds that were spilling from his mouth into Oliver's. How had he ever doubted? This was always going to happen, had to happen. It was as though he could feel Oliver's need spilling through time, from the very beginning, the first time they locked horns. They'd been locked together from the start, connected. Just like Roy had always thought they were.

One step, another, and Oliver was pushing him against the low table at the side of the room, forcing Roy up to sit on it. Oliver edged between Roy's parted knees, wrapped one arm around Roy's waist to his back, and kept the other on Roy's jaw, tilting it upward into Oliver's kiss. With his legs parted and Oliver right there, Roy knew Oliver could feel how hard he'd gotten, and when the shock of Oliver's hard-on slid against his own, Roy groaned so loud it echoed in the room. He opened to Oliver's kiss, met Oliver's tongue with his own, sensation rolling down his spine in hot waves. He clutched Oliver's shirt with one hand, balling the fabric up into his fist and pulling his shirt up so Oliver's stomach was bare as it pressed against Roy's shirt.

A sudden yank from Oliver and Roy didn't have a shirt anymore, and now there was skin against skin in that one warm place. It wasn't enough. Roy pulled upward, breaking their kisses for a moment, and in that instant between the rush of cotton over their faces and their next kiss, Roy could see the heat in Oliver's gaze and it took his breath away. Still breathless, he leaned in, slid his hand over Oliver's shoulder, and let Oliver lower him down onto the table and climb on top of him.

Oliver's weight on his was almost more than Roy could take. He keened, arching upward. Oliver's scent was everywhere, all around him, and with every inhalation Roy was more and more lost in it. Sweat slicked their legs and chests, making them slide together, and Roy panted and very nearly begged when Oliver's lips left his to land in his neck and suck and lick there. His cock ached, and his legs spread weider to allow Oliver to push against him even closer. Oliver's erection was huge and hot against his, and Roy wanted to touch it. He dared to place a hand on Oliver's ass.

Oliver hissed. “Fuck, Roy, I--”

“Fucking want you,” Roy whispered. “Always fucking have. Jesus.”

“God!” The word fell sharp and breathy in Roy's ear. Roy thought he might come in his pants right then, just from the sound of Oliver so intense and wanting.

“You want to fuck me, Oliver?” Where the hell he got the nerves from to be this brazen, Roy didn't know, but he did know saying the words felt like the sharp stab of a knife, intense and overwhelming. “Cause you can fuck me right now, or anytime you want.”

“Roy,” Oliver said, and Roy could tell he was trying to cool down and sound serious. Roy didn't want that; he pressed his groin up against Oliver's and made him groan, interrupting his thought. “Jesus, Roy, that's-- I--”

“Fuck me, Ollie,” Roy said, daring to use the nickname he'd only ever heard others call Oliver. “You want to, you can do it. Right now.”

“Shit.” In another second Oliver was off him, jumping to his feet and searching the room with his eyes. “Do I have – yes --” his eyes fell on a medical cabinet. “I'll be right back.” He leaned over the table, kissed Roy hard, and headed toward the cabinet. Roy took advantage of the time to slip out of his shorts and boxers. The table was cold against his bare ass, but he didn't give a damn. This was something he wanted way too badly.

He wasn't alone for long. Oliver was back in a few moments, and Roy saw as he walked back to the table that he was now naked but for a condom around his cock and a bottle in his hand. Roy cursed, his dick jumping at the sight. Now he could see Oliver's hipbones, the tops of his thighs and the curve of his ass with no clothes there to block the way, and he was fucking glorious. Roy's mouth watered. He wanted to taste those hipbones, bite at them until they were marked up, then slip his mouth over the crown of Oliver's cock and--

\--and oh Jesus, Oliver was touching him now, first curling around his cock and pulling upward. Roy groaned, open-mouthed. And his whole body jerked with the force of the touch. “Ollie, Jesus--”

“Turn over,” Oliver urged, pressing his fingers against the head of Roy's cock and sliding them across in a single, incredible movement. “I'll open you up.”

Roy flipped over on the table, pressed his ass up in Oliver's direction, and let his face rest against the cold surface. Chills went through him at the contact. And then chills of a different kind, as Oliver worked a finger, then two, into him. Lube-slick and thin, the kind of fingers that can grab an arrow from a quiver, nock it into the bow and let it fly in less than a second. Here they were no less deft, moving inside Roy and stretching him out until he was panting and pushing his ass backward into the strokes, anxious to get Oliver to touch that spot inside him where everything seemed to turn to lightning.

Oliver turned him over again, and he was as sure of his target as ever as he eased inside.

Sure but careful, stopping after a few inches to look down at Roy and gauge his comfort, but Roy had no patience for comfort; he hadn't wanted it from the beginning, he just wanted Oliver, filling him up, making him better through every slide of their bodies together in sparring or sex. “Fuckin' do it,” he whispered, grabbing Oliver by the hair and tugging as his body went taut with the next few inches of penetration. “Yes... Jesus, just fuck me,” and his whole body was throbbing, and Oliver's mouth came down on his searing and yes, there, now he could feel Oliver's balls pressing against his ass and he was so full he thought he'd break apart.

He didn't. Oliver moved, and there was that lightning again in his abdomen, the intense sharp flash of it so good. Roy's yell was uneven, ragged at the edges, and his throat hurt afterward, but the searing heat of his body was so good, the rub of his cockhead against Oliver's stomach was driving him crazy and bringing him closer to the edge. Above him, Oliver panted, pressed their foreheads together, watching him as they moved, and Roy wasn't sure he was worthy of that gaze, but he met it, urged Oliver on in terse syllables. Oliver's hips rocked against his own, and the motion became hypnotic, almost comforting, even as the searing point of penetration kept him on edge and groaning with each stroke.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Oliver mumbled. “God, so gorgeous.”

“Come on,” Roy urged. “Come on.”

And Oliver groaned, and buried his head in Roy's neck as he came to the edge. Roy felt the swelling and the straining inside him like the flexing of a muscle, and he wrapped his legs around Oliver's waist to pull him in. A moment later, Oliver let go inside him, crying out against the flesh of Roy's neck and shivering hard. The sudden rush felt like a cord of pure electricity running through Roy, and he groaned, arching up to drag himself against Oliver's stomach one more time. It was enough, and he came, seeing stars as he shot sticky lines along Oliver's stomach and himself, an orgasm like the point of a needle, sharp and intense and piercing.

For a long while they just panted, sticking to each other, trying to calm down irregular breathing and accelerated heartbeats. Roy's mind whirled over what had happened, then short circuited itself in surprise and joy and stopped working entirely.

And then Oliver began to laugh, a low chuckle that vibrated into Roy's body. And Roy couldn't help but join him, his more tenor laughter joining Oliver's in a kind of dissonant harmony, rhythms and pitches not lined up but sentiment aligning perfectly.

“This isn't part of your reward, you know,” Oliver said when his laughter had begun to die down. He was still chuckling through the sounds.

“Oh, good,” Roy said flatly. “Nice to know you don't offer this to everyone who joins the team.”

“God, it really is a team by now, isn't it?” Oliver said. “I keep letting people in. Pretty soon the whole city will know.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Roy offered, “you didn't let me in. I forced my way in.”

“I know.” Oliver pulled himself free of Roy and curled over onto his side, lying next to him on the sturdy table. He slid his hand down Roy's stomach, fingers gentle as they feathered lightly over Roy's skin. 

“Still glad I did?” Roy asked, angling his face upward toward Oliver's, asking silently for another kiss.

Oliver didn't deny him. They lingered together, kissing softly, for several seconds before Oliver broke off to reply in words. “Still glad.”

Roy grinned. “Glad I found you, too.”


End file.
